Disease
by BananaPeaceMonkeyKarmi
Summary: Because he needed her like he needed a disease, and she needed him the same way. And they were the only ones who could satisfy that for each other. Prompt Challenge for 4.25.13.


Disease

She couldn't deny him, nor did she want to – at this moment. It was too sweet, too raw, the passion. He kissed her forcefully, but opened up to him. He wanted her to know that he was in charge, though that was how she preferred it. She wanted him in control. She wanted him to mold her body to his, to place her in the positions he wanted. She wanted to please him, to share these scarce moments for as long as she could make them last.

Of course, it was the same for him. He only did this because he knew she liked him this way. Rough, yet gentle enough not to hurt her. She was kind enough for her customers but no one but him knew how she liked it in privacy. And no one but him knew the minx that she became when they got into bed. It was like rediscovering her for the first time again and again. He expected the change but it always surprised him whenever they were together. The hunger. The longing. The passion. And how much he needed it – needed her.

All of it was ridiculous, however, and terribly short-lived. Once they were done, he would leave and they would agree not to do this again. It was bad for their friendship and they were keeping it from the others. They didn't want to keep lying to the only other people they trusted but what would they say ("No one needs to know our business," she remembered him saying once). She would lie there satisfied, yet frustrated with herself for giving into him again. And he would walk home with a kick in his step and his head hung low for doing this to her – and himself – once again.

Why was it so hard? Why was it so hard to resist, to say no? Did they really need one another that much? And if so, why didn't they just see each other officially?

In their separate spheres, they both laughed sardonically at the thought. They knew a relationship wouldn't work between them. The sex was great, sure, but that's nothing to build a relationship around. If they tried they both knew they would just be hurting each other more than they already were.

Because the next time she saw him, they would be in a public setting surrounded by their friends. And she would act the same way with him as she would be anyone else, yet thinking of the lean muscle underneath his shirt and the strong arms that held her to him during the night they recently had together. He would be just as well, except in the back of his mind the image of her bosom pressed against his chest and her tight walls around his stiff nearly made his gulp down whatever drink was in his hand.

They were bad for each other. No, they were _awful_ for one another. She knew he wouldn't be able to stay committed – not because he needed more than one woman but because he hated being tied down. He hated feeling trapped, like he had to stay in one place for the sake of someone else's happiness. She would go weeks without seeing him due to a number of factors, his job a major one. Then one day he would show up at her doorstep, cold and alone and… hungry. And she would feed him in everyway she knew how. What kind of relationship could that be where she waited for him and he felt obligated to come to her? He knew he couldn't do that to her – she deserved more than that. More than him, more than he could ever give her. Their lives were nothing close to stable, and that's what she needed. He knew she would never hold him to the fact that he couldn't stay in one place for too long, but he also knew that eventually she would just become bitter and begin to hate him for it, whether she noticed it or not.

It was better this way. It was safer this way, maintaining a friendly relationship and satiating one another's needs. While the moments were euphoric and everything they could ever yearn for, it left them crestfallen afterwards.

Because they knew they shouldn't do this to one another. Because they knew that even this relationship was less than choice and that he was degrading her. Whenever he left she felt like some kind of whore, though she knew it was never his intention to make her feel that way. She was entitled to her sexual exploits, even if the only man she'd ever felt truly satisfied by and connected to was him. And sure, he'd also had his share, but none of them were like her. None of them were anywhere near her. She was all he needed – sexually – because he couldn't possibly give her anything else.

So when they both reached their limits and leaned on one another to breathe, she knew the moment was coming. They both did. She untangled herself from his grasp and laid down, not caring that she was still exposed to him. She'd learned not to a long time ago, after realizing that it didn't matter. Though as he got dressed, she would feel the shame slowly creep up on her, and she'd cover herself with a sheet and turn over and ignore him. Because that was easier than saying goodbye to him, than officially ending the past few hours together.

He looked at her when he was done and saw exactly what he expected to see. He took a few steps to the bed as he usually did and kissed her still exposed shoulder before taking his leave. He knew his way out too well. When the door clicked he took a breath he felt he had been holding in before trudging down the steps.

She sighed and turned over, not caring that the sheet shifted slightly and exposed her anew. She was isolated once again. Now all that was left for her was to sleep, which was more difficult than it seemed.

A knock. She sat up, on alert. It came again, louder and more urgent.

She quickly got up from her bed and grabbed the shirt on the floor, tossed aside without her even noticing at some time during the night. She pulled up her underwear as she walked to the door and didn't care past that. Whoever this person was would understand that she might have been sleeping.

He was there, behind the door. She stared blankly at him. She didn't know what else to do. This wasn't part of their routine, this never happened.

He kissed her. He held her. He gave her the passion she wanted, even though just a moment before she was convinced that she just might pass out.

And when they finished, he didn't leave. Because he needed her like he needed a disease, and she needed him the same way. And they were the only ones who could satisfy that for each other.

* * *

And onto the next one~


End file.
